Are not our enemies.

The peaks get higher

But our legs get stronger,

The air gets thinner

But our lungs learn to do more with less,

The path gets mundane

Compelling our eyes upwards to the stars

In search of inspiration.

The path is good because it is hard

Because our feet were made for walking

Our sinews are bolstered by resistance

And our strength is forged in affliction.

In a world of safetyism

Where our definitions of threats

Are rapidly expanding

It is easy to imagine all difficulty

As being only oppressive.

It is not.

It is our means of acquiring

Steady feet

And ready hands.

The hills we climb

Are not our enemies

They are our path

To our greatest selves.